I stood, frozen to the spot, as a head bigger than my torso lowered and the Brown’s nostrils flared wide to sniff me. Though brown dragons were the smallest of the breed, they were still quite large enough to kill if they became enraged and getting too close to a woman could anger them—at least if the books I’d read from my father’s collection were to be believed.
But instead of growing angry when it smelled me, the brown dragon simply snorted in a friendly way. The air from its nostrils blew my long hair back and I gasped in startlement.
The courier—for he must be a courier from the Academy, I thought—laughed good-naturedly.
“Aye, seems G’lornie likes you. No surprise, given your bloodlines, I suppose. Nobility like that can be smelled from miles away by the dragons.”
“Nobility?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath.
“Oh, aye. You’re a Lysandra, aren’t you? Your bloodlines go back to the very first Riders. The only line more ancient is the Skorens. None of their line ever bond to less than a Gold-wing. I dare say you’ll be the same yourself, for all you’re a bit of a runt.”
He eyed me with a slight frown, shaking his head at my size.
I was just now beginning to understand what was going on—the courier had mistaken me for my dead brother. I had to set the record straight before he went any further.
“Oh, I’m not—” I began…and then stopped abruptly.
Since Auren had died, I had been desperately lonely. I had no money to spend in town and thus no reason to go down there to speak to anyone. Not that many wanted to talk to me. Ever since my father’s suicide, I was known as “the git of that mad rider up on the mountain.” And since madness was thought to be catching, I wasn’t at all popular in any of the shops. Even if I’d had gold to spend, they still would have shunned me.
Also, I wanted to know a little more about the Academy. Auren and I had talked about it ceaselessly—even at the end when it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere but into Death’s cold embrace. I wanted to know what kind of life he might have lived if the fever hadn’t taken him from me.
“You’re not what? Ready to go yet?” The courier blew out an exasperated sigh that puffed out his thick mustache in a comical way. “Very well, I can give you a single day. I’ll stay in your family’s cave, with your permission?”
“Oh, of course,” I heard myself saying and nodded further down the ledge where the huge cavern that used to house F’lorn was located. It was empty now—he and my father had dived to their deaths together, though no one knew why.
My father claimed he had been bitten by a Madling and some said he and his dragon had amplified and fed off one another’s pain and madness until they reached the tipping point and ended their lives together.
But that was impossible. The Madlings had been eradicated a century or more ago—burned from our skies by dragon fire and their poison had been cleansed from our bloodlines by rigorous culling.
“I have my own provisions, but are there any sheep or goats for G’lornie to eat?” The courier asked, raising his eyebrows—which were nearly as poufy as his mustache.
“Er, I’m afraid not,” I said, feeling suddenly ashamed at my lack of hospitality. A Great House—even an impoverished one—ought to be able to offer a dragon in need a meal.
“Eh, that’s too bad.” He frowned and shook his head.
“My father and his dragon, F’lorn, have been gone for over a year, so there’s been no point in keeping a flock anymore,” I hastened to explain.
I didn’t add that I had sold the last of the scrawny sheep that used to graze on our pitifully small mountain pasture right before Auren had died, so I could afford enough to buy beef bones to make him a nourishing broth. I hadn’t wanted my beloved twin brother to die with an empty belly.
Those bones were dry now—boiled over and over and cracked and scraped clean of their marrow. The courier would likely have a better meal than I did that night, no matter how little he had brought with him. I literally had nothing to offer him, but tea made from leaves that had been boiled three times over already.
“Would you like to come in for some tea?” I asked, thinking I could boil the leaves once more and make at least a weak approximation of the strong black brew my father used to favor.
The courier shook his head.
“Nay, lad. I’ll be fine on my own—we’re not supposed to go in the house when we come for a conscript. ‘Specially not a Noble House,” he added, giving my cracked and peeling front door a dubious look.
“Oh, well…” I wasn’t sure what to say. I ought to send him away right now but if I did, I’d never hear more about the Academy. I wanted to ask him some questions—I wanted to learn more about what Auren’s life would have been if he’d lived.
“Well, if there’s nothing else—” the courier began, starting to turn away.
“Wait,” I said quickly, and he turned back.
“Yes, lad?”
“What…what should I bring with me?” I asked, reaching for the first question I could think of.
He shook his head.
